Unforgettable
by moomolie1709
Summary: Their love was one different from any other, legendary. No one had anticipated it, but no one would be able to forget it. A different take on the Arwen romance. AU and some angst.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Hello Merlin lovers! New story I wanted to try out. This first chapter is just a short intro to set up the plot, hopefully you guys like it! Enjoy, and thank you for reading!

**Chapter 1: Prologue**

His hands were shaking.

He looked down at his clenched fists, he couldn't control himself. It had all been too much, and no matter his efforts, his anger would overpower his rationality.

He didn't understand it. He was royalty, the heir to the throne, he was _Arthur Pendragon_. How she managed to wind him so tightly was beyond him. Things like this didn't happen to princes.

He found her deceptive, two faced, duplicitous. She had played him for a fool, making his feelings a game. She was a woman with malicious intent, planning to use him from the beginning. Her affections were never real, none of it was. She was a simple social climber, wanting to share a couple moments with the crown prince to further her hidden agenda. At least, that was what he wanted to believe.

But he knew better. It was just easier to paint her as a cold-hearted villain .

She was innocent, a true angel. She would never do anything to hurt anyone, she was the most caring being he had ever met. She was an open book, not able to lie without making it obvious. Her feelings were genuine, or they had been when it all started. Her loyalty was never to be questioned, her unwavering devotion and trust in him was stronger than any other bond he ever had.

It was his fault that all of it happened, it was his blame to shoulder. He had forced her to join his world, knowing very well that she didn't belong. The royal court of Camelot was no place for a simple peasant girl.

But the thing was, he didn't know what would have become of him had he not asked her to come away with him. She was like the air he had to breathe, the water her needed to drink. She was an integral and irreplaceable part of his life.

She might have been a dispensable servant to others, but to him, she was essential.

When she came into his life, he was at his lowest low. She was his savior, whether he cared to admit it or not. She made him happy again, she made him understand what it was to be his own person.

But now it was all gone. Things were said and done.

He didn't know if he would ever see her again. He couldn't even think of how she could face him after the sins he had committed.

She was gone now, and it was all because of him. He simply received what he justly deserved.

Her words echoed in his head, haunting every fiber in his body.

"_I love you," _

Her smile engraved into his memory. Her kindness made a permanent impression on his soul.

Arthur sat at his desk, goblet filled to the rim, staring at the one piece of her that he had left. He fingered the strip of red cloth in his hands, hoping that somehow holding it would bring her back. It soothed him, he was no longer trembling.

He closed his eyes, leaning his head back. He took a deep breath, and began to remember.

She was his first, last, and greatest love. She gave him what he could never experience in a million lifetimes. He would never forget the dearest treasure ever crossed his path.

He drifted back to the time when their complicated story began to unfold, where everything had come to a start.

**_To be continued…._**

A/N: Should I continue? This is a much darker take on 'Merlin' characters, and is basically AU. I will be taking elements from the show while recreating it in a way to make a more complicated love story between Gwen and Arthur. Reviews if you're interested in reading more, thank you for reading!**_  
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	2. Chapter 2

A/N: I'm back with a real chapter this time. It seems like the prologue didn't have enough substance, so I decided to quickly write another part that will hopefully give you a better idea of this story's dynamic. This will be a fiction that is longer in length, so more will be built up from chapter to chapter. Enjoy!

**Chapter 2**

Arthur groaned at the sight in front of him. He was hoping for more, but it just another village that resided near the western borders of Albion.

It wasn't uncommon for his father to send him away from Camelot now. He could agree that his behavior in court had not been exemplary, but riding out to protect a no name town in the rural countryside was punishment enough. It was third time that year that the young prince had found himself sent away from the city to reconsider his social mistakes.

It wasn't like Arthur didn't understand what wrongs he was committing. In fact, he welcomed the acts of forbidden sin; the aspect of danger entertained him in his state of constant boredom. Ever since his sixteenth birthday, he had taken a keen liking to the women around him in the castle. All ladies of nobility flocked to him after his maturity began to take its course. And five years later, it was no different.

He guessed that his father was embarrassed by the notion of the future king spending the majority of his down time with a different woman in his bed. But to be honest, the prince didn't really care. He wanted to enjoy his youth to its full extent, and if that meant earning a reputation as a womanizer in the process, he was willing to sacrifice his father's good graces.

This trip to the countryside was a result to his latest conquest, the Lady Vivian. Her father, King Olaf, was an overprotective oaf. And after discovering the two young adults together in Arthur's chambers, he threatened war. The King and his council were successful in defusing the situation, but nonetheless ordered for Arthur to be sent out on another 'break' to cool his head.

So here he was, in front a small collection of primitive houses and huts. He looked on in disgust, he didn't mind roughing it, but the thought that people would actually live contently in such austere conditions escaped him. He rode with a selection of his trusted knights, all of whom were disappointed with the 'quest' ahead of them.

A beast had escaped from the neighboring country and was terrorizing those that lived on the western edge of the kingdom. Apparently, it was his duty as prince and head of the army to assure the safety of all of Albion's subjects. The next few days were indeed going to test his resolve.

The young man let out another sigh as he signaled his men to follow him as he made his way into the village of Ealdor. Once the peasants spotted the group of armed men, they panicked. But after seeing the Pendragon Crest on their weapons, realized that they had been sent there on account of the King. The villagers cheered and welcomed the strangers in, relieved that help had finally been sent.

One of the village elders stepped forward to greet the visitors. It was a strange, dotty old man with pepper colored hair. He walked with a cane and approached the crown prince without hesitation, reaching out to shake his hands.

The man's straight forward actions surprised Arthur, unaccustomed to such sudden physical contact. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted the hands of his knights on the hilts of their swords. He raised a hand to stop them. One of the few things that he had respect for was the elderly, he wouldn't have one beheaded for a small social gaffe.

"Thank you so much," the man lowered his head, grasping the prince's hands tightly, placing numerous kisses on them, "Thank you so much," he repeated. "We cannot be more thankful for your help,"

Slightly uncomfortable, Arthur nodded and waited for the man to release his hands. After a few moments, the man stepped back, and allowed Arthur to get off of his horse. The knights did the same.

"I am Arthur Pendragon," he introduced plainly, the man's eyes lit up. "We have come here on order of King Uther to rid your borders of a beast,"

"The prince!" he exclaimed, "The king sent his son to help us?" he paused, "We are forever grateful!"

Arthur was distracted. He had noticed a group of girls gathering at the side, shamelessly giggling, not bothering to conceal their admiration for his appearance. It wasn't a lie when people said that every woman in the land was attracted to him. He heightened his chest in slight pride. He half turned his attention back to the fragile man standing in front of him. "Of course," he pressed his lips together as he tried to determine which girl in the group was the most worthy of his 'time'.

He heard one of the knights behind him clear his throat loudly. Arthur reluctantly shifted his gaze and rolled his eyes, giving in to the main purpose of his visit. "Tell me more about this infamous creature that has harmed my father's people,"

The old man bowed his head again, "Yes, my Liege" he signaled for other members of the village to come over and take the horses from Arthur and his knights, "But before that, please come with me, you all must be tired from your long journey," he began walking away, leading them into a large hut in the middle of the village.

Arthur gave his men an exasperated look behind his shoulder before giving them the okay to follow the man.

**-p-**

Rumors surrounding who would arrive in Ealdor spread like wildfire. A messenger had brought news of military aid after the recent attacks of a winged monster. Everyone was excited, they would finally be able to take their village back after weeks of submission. People were elated, celebrating in every way they could, making preparations for their saviors.

It seemed as most had forgotten the terrible events that had taken place. The beast took numerous lives, all of them innocent bystanders.

One of said lost lives belonged to an middle aged man named Thomas. He was a gentle soul, an honest worker, and a skilled blacksmith that had migrated to the countryside with his late wife.

Tom's daughter, Guinevere, was not among those who easily overlooked the devastating losses.

While other girls in the village ran to prepare a feast, Guinevere, better known as Gwen, continued to mourn for those who had passed. While people were scrambling to ready the guest quarters for the visitors to stay in, Gwen oversaw the burials and brought flowers to the graves.

She was grateful help had finally been brought to Ealdor, but more frustrated that it had taken so long to get it. The beast had appeared nearly a month earlier, yet the King waited for more than two dozen people to be killed to take action. She believed that had action been taken before, her father would still be alive.

Any girl in her position would have fell to pieces, but Gwen refused to be overtaken with grief. Her mother died when she was only two years of age, and she had been forced to take the position as homemaker. For seventeen years, Gwen took care of her father and older brother, hoping that she would be able to fill the empty void that had been left by the absence of her mother. She was used to far greater obstacles, she was determined to endure and come out victorious.

The day that the King's men finally turned up was the thirteenth day after her father's death. Gwen was on her way back from gathering water when she saw the blend of silver and red in the distance. It was a truly amazing sight. A group of about twenty broad shouldered men proudly rode in on their strong looking horses, all dressed head to two in chainmail and armor.

Having helped her father with his trade when she was younger, she was able to appreciate the superior craftsmanship.

She was amongst the crowd that gathered around when they rode in. She found humor in the fact that she was like every other girl in the village; completely fascinated by their guests; the difference being that she was admiring their equipment, and not the actual men standing in the chainmail.

The moment that the leading knight removed his helmet, Gwen's breath was taken away. Though she lacked experience with men, she had to admit that the man speaking to the village elder was blindingly beautiful. Blond hair and clear blue eyes.

She couldn't help but scoff at his attitude. Once he revealed his identity, she understood the reasoning behind his behavior. He was the crown prince, known from every corner of the kingdom as a ladies' man and prat.

The prince clearly had no real motivation to be there. He was more interested in spending time with the women in the village rather than saving them from eminent doom.

Gwen sighed, as she ducked her head and slowly pushed her way back out of the crowd. She carried the a heavy wooden bucket, careful to make sure that the water wasn't spilled, it was a considerably long walk back to the well. She had no interest in stalking the handsome men that had just come to Ealdor.

All she cared about was that they ridded the village of the monster.

She hoped that they were competent enough for the job.

And if they weren't, it wasn't as if she planned on sitting around waiting for them to get it done right.

Gwen was prepared to do anything to slay the beast that had robbed her of her father. Regardless of what people around her were telling her, she was determined to participate in the redemption of her father's life. She would take matters into her own hands. She just needed the right opportunity.

Before she made her way back to her hut, she turned around one last time. She felt herself staring at him again. The arrogant leader stood out to her, and not just for his level of status.

She couldn't put her finger on it, but there was more to him than met the eye.

**End Chapter 2**

A/N: I know it's not really making a whole lot of sense in this chapter, but I wanted to introduce the characters a bit. Hopefully you guys like it, tell me what you think _please_! Reviews really motivate me to write (Hence why I've put 'Maturity' on temporary hold, I sadly only got two reviews for the last chapter). Thanks for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

"Sober up boys!" Arthur shouted, amused by his companions complete lack of enthusiasm. Groans filled the crowd, drowning out the bright sun that was shining on them.

The previous night had proved to the knights that even those in the countryside knew how to celebrate. Women and ale, and lots of it. The city guests found the accommodations to be most satisfying. They discovered country girls held much in common with the female courtiers of Camelot; they both liked to throw themselves at any man with status.

But after the excitement died down, and the hangovers arose, Arthur was left with a group of cranky young men. Unlike their leader who had trained his body with a massive alcohol tolerance, the rest of the knights had pounding headaches and sensitivity to light.

Arthur was having none of it, practice schedules were rigid, and they needed to be completed no matter what. Discipline was something, though he hated it administered on himself, that Arthur felt strongly about. There was no way he could have a powerful and well trained army if none of them listened to his authority.

Arthur paced back and forth next to the line of whining men, a smile on his face. "Come on then, time to spar!" He threw numerous wooden staffs into the line, several of them were caught, most of them hit the floor and needed to be picked up.

Though the knights admired and respected the prince for his superior strength and courage, they loathed his constant insistence on structure. But nonetheless, they all followed his orders. He watched from afar, making sure that despite their intoxicated state, his men were still capable fighters. He nodded in approval as he passed heated duels, giving advice or taunting those who didn't meet the standard.

It was mid morning, and none of them had their first meal. Most of them were running on empty stomachs filled with ale, no real substance to help them sustain energy. Knowing this, many girls came to visit; all of them carrying baskets filled with different assortments of food or fruit. Finally sympathizing for his friends, Arthur called an end to practice, to be resumed later that day unless the beast returned to the village.

Instead of staying to be showered with gifts, Arthur decided that he was going to scout the town. It was obviously a small town, but it would still prove useful to thoroughly understand what kind of ground he was fighting on. He skillfully slipped away from the growing crowd of women that invaded his practice and began to weave himself through the small structures of Ealdor.

Compared to the bustle of the castle and Camelot itself, it was extremely calm. Nothing seemed to be going on. The village didn't have much to offer besides its supply of alcohol and collection of willing women. He was growing bored without another adventure. He hoped that that this beast would make its debut soon so that he could slay the monster and be done with it.

He stifled a yawn as he continued walking, seeing nothing but more fields and a couple of cows. He hissed as the edge of his armor dug into his shoulder blade. His own horse had thrown him on the past day's journey, damaging his armor in the process. It was no major problem, but still extremely uncomfortable, slightly painful. It could prove to be a potential setback in battle, it would be best to fix it before it caused a greater issue.

He spotted a pair of young boys walking in his direction, both chatting away happily, oblivious to his presence.

When they were close enough to the house he was hiding behind, his arm shot out and grabbed one of the to the side by the collar. He didn't want to attract attention after he put so much effort in not be trailed by another group of women. Arthur resisted the urge to laugh as the boy stood petrified in front of him.

"Where can I find a blacksmith around here?" he questioned.

The poor thing was shaking now, probably intimidated by the prince's cold and straight forward nature. He raised his hand, shaking a bit, and pointed in to the side. "It's over there," the boy swallowed dryly, "The house, the one with the round foundation on the furthest end to the left,"

Arthur released his grasp on his shirt, allowing the boy to bow his head, and get on his way. Following the boy's instructions, the prince trudged alone the path. There was no sign to designate that it was the blacksmith's home, but it was the only hut to fit the boy's description. He approached the front door without hesitation, and knocked.

The loud sound of metal clanging with wood seemed like it would gather the attention of whoever was living inside, but no one answered. Arthur waited for a moment before knocking another time, he was not a patient man. The result was no different than the first. Growing a bit irritated, he knocked again, this time with bit more force.

"Is anyone in there?"

No answer.

He banged again, almost hurting his knuckles with how hard he hit the door. He decided that it wasn't worth it, and he would just deal with the discomfort until he returned back to Camelot, Arthur turned on his heel, ready to leave.

But as he turned around, he saw something he wasn't expecting.

"Can I help you?" she questioned, but then remembered to add, "my Lord," she curtsied slightly.

Gwen had been out picking flowers that morning, she planned to visit her father's grave again. She hadn't settled well with living alone now, with her brother well off on his escapades three years earlier, and both of her parents gone, she felt lonely. It order to deal with the loss, she decided that it would be best to make regular trips to her parents' burial place.

She had just returned to her home, ready with flowers in hand, hoping to eat her morning meal before heading back out. But whilst on her way home, spotted a tall man adorned in silver, banging on her front door. What made it worse was that it wasn't any man, it was the crown prince.

Arthur stared back at her, taking in her appearance. She had a dark blue cloak hanging over her small frame, the hood pulled over her head, covering her head. She carried a bouquet of small purple-petal flowers. Brunette curls framed her face as she gave him a skeptical look. Her appearance had taken him by surprise, and it took him a moment to respond.

He brought the side of his fist to his mouth as he cleared his throat, "I'm looking to repair my armor," he stated as plainly as he could. He wasn't in the mood to flirt with another girl, he just wanted to get his equipment fixed and be on his way. "I've been told the blacksmith lives here,"

Her heart ached as she heard him ask for her dead father, it hit a tender spot with her. Her eyes fell to the floor; she was just going to have to explain to him that Ealdor no longer had a town blacksmith. "I'm sorry, but—" she stopped. "What exactly is it that you need repaired?"

Without thinking, she moved forward, touching the hauberk that rested on his chest, examining where the problems lied. A simple malfunction with armor was an easy enough task for her to fix by herself. She may not have been as skilled as her father or brother, but she was capable enough. If anyone in town was capable of restoring the prince's armor, it was her. Taken aback by her touch, he stood frozen. Women in the countryside really were more forward with their pursuits.

As she became aware of her inappropriate actions, she looked up with widened eyes, and immediately stepped back. She mumbled an apology and gave another clumsy curtsy.

He answered warily, "I um, I need the voiders refitted, they've been bent out of shape." He wasn't really sure why he gave her an explanation at all, a girl would have not be able to comprehend what he meant. But instead of giving him a dazed look, she nodded readily.

It was just as she thought, she could easily fix the issue without a problem, it was easy enough.

"My Lord," she began, her address awkward, "I'm sorry but my father is not available at the moment," she watched his lips form a scowl, "But I'm sure when he returns, he'll be able to repair it and get it back to you," she knew she couldn't lie if her life depended on it, praying that he believed her.

Her words were unnatural, like she was afraid of something. He thought about the possibility of her deceit, but why would she? She didn't seem like the type with an ulterior motive, he overlooked his initial doubt, and glanced back down at her.

Before he could answer again, she had already brushed past him, and opened the door to the house. She walked in first, prompting him to follow after her. She turned around as he stood in the doorway, "Please, come in," she put the flowers down on the table to the side, and waited for him to come in.

He cautiously entered, unaccustomed to being in a peasant's home. He closed the door behind him, wondering why he even bothered with the girl in the first place. She was obviously trying to get him alone, but then again, he didn't really mind.

He wordlessly followed her directions, and sat down on a sad wooden chair. He watched as the girl lowered her hood and removed her cloak. She was wearing one of the most modest dresses he had seen on a girl, a loose ensemble, covering her collarbone, arms, and legs. She naturally rolled her sleeves up, as if to prepare herself for arduous work. A red strip of cloth tied her hair back. She swung around again to face him, her hands clasped together.

"Remove your armor," she instructed quietly.

He couldn't believe his ears. Was this woman really approaching him in this manner? It was the first time any woman asked _him, _a prince, to strip. She didn't even seem the least bit ashamed with her demands. He debated whether or not to do as she said. He looked at her unsure of what she really meant, but she didn't falter. She just continued to look at him naively with her large brown eyes.

But then her hand flew to cover her mouth as she gasped, she stepped away again. This time her hands flew up defensively, "No, I didn't mean—" Gwen let out a loud sigh, visibly tired, "I meant that if you need your armor repaired, you would need to remove it so that it would be possible for my father to fix it," she explained.

Arthur raised a brow, but believed her nonetheless. He complied and began to reach behind his shoulders to undo the clasps that held the armor to his body. He struggled to remove it, he usually had a servant or another knight to help him.

Finding the situation hopeless, he looked at her, "Would you please?"

"Allow me," she walked so that she stood behind the chair and began to help him undo it.

He turned rigid to her contact, again shocked by her brazen boldness. City women and country women were vastly different. He assumed that she was using it as another excuse to touch him, and was about to protest until he felt the metal around his arm loosen.

So she actually knew how to take armor off properly. That was something he didn't quite expect.

After she finished, she carefully placed the pieces of his armor next to the flowers on the table.

He half expected her turn around and fling herself into his arms, or maybe sit in his lap. He prepared himself for it, but instead got nothing.

She lowered her head respectfully, "Thank you," she made straight and honest eye contact, "I'll make sure that my father receives it. It'll be done in a couple of hours," she assured him, this time smiling.

Gwen was excited to finally have something on her hands to distract her from her family situation. It was nice to at last think about something else than her sadness.

She waited for him to get up and leave, but instead, he sat there dumbfounded.

A moment of uncomfortable silence passed between them before Arthur finally stood up and made his way to the door. Granted he wasn't making direct advances at the girl, but she wasn't even trying to flirt with him.

So as he walked out of the door, he found it strange that she didn't bother to stop him. She followed him up until the door, stopping to see him off.

As he took slow paces away, he turned back to see her. She was where she stood, her feet unmoving. She gave a formal curtsy, "Your majesty," she saluted.

He gave her a downward nod of acknowledgment before turning again. He heard the door slam cleanly shut behind him.

All he could think was, _what the hell just happened_?

** End Chapter 3**

A/N: Oh Arthur, he's so confused when a girl doesn't make a pass at him. And to make things worse he's nervous around Gwen when she doesn't really do anything. I wanted to make their first meeting awkward and uncomfortable, don't worry, they'll grow. Please please please review! Thank you for reading, I hope you liked it!


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Arthur sat with a small group of his knights, relaxing under the coolness of the setting sun. They lounged in the middle of an open field; all of them were physically exhausted. Training had gone on longer than anticipated, but none of them felt more alive. All of the knights felt that nothing could compare to the thrill and exhilaration of fighting.

Most of them were ready for yet another night of merriments. Despite the consequences of their escapades, the cycle of drinking and intercourse was never broken.

Arthur on the other hand was preparing for a second meeting alone with the village elders. He needed to assure them of their safety, as well as procure further information on the beast. The hunt was scheduled for the following night, and their return back to Camelot the morning after. He didn't doubt that slaying the mysterious creature would be difficult. After all, if it was really a dangerous task, his father wouldn't have sent his sole heir to complete it. Everything was already scheduled, all that was left was the confirmation.

He was in the middle of his conversation with a younger knight when he was interrupted.

"Sire," it was one of the servants that had accompanied Arthur and his men on their journey.

"What is it?" he asked, evidently unhappy with the interjection.

"There's a girl calling for you,"

Snickers amongst the group of young men broke out. "Isn't there always?" laughed someone to the side. The rest of the group joined in and resumed with cat calls and lewd remarks.

Without looking at the messenger, the prince stated "Tell her I'm busy at the moment,"

No one paid attention to the manservant as he walked away with his head low. They barely even noticed when he returned moments later.

"Sire," the boy approached them more timidly.

"What _now_?" he growled.

"I have something for you," he replied nervously.

Giving up on even finishing his conversation, he sighed and pushed off the ground. He got to his feet and faced the younger boy.

It was his armor. Well polished, ready, and repaired. One look at the pile of metal and he saw that it had been restored to new condition. The dents and disfigurations in the metal had been pounded out.

The connection was made almost immediately. With no time to lose, the prince took off running leaving his friends behind. He slapped the back of the servant in gratitude "Take that back to my hut will you?", almost making him drop the armor in his arms. He had completely forgotten about his armor, the seemingly perfect excuse for him to miss the meeting with the village elders had finally arrived.

He scanned the scenery around him, combing through the trees and small buildings for the girl he was looking for. It didn't take much to spot her, she was wearing the same navy colored cloak that she was dressed in earlier that day. He wanted to call out her name, but realized he couldn't, he had forgotten to ask.

So instead, he quickened his pace. Once he was arms length away, he reached out to her shoulder. As his hand made contact, she swiveled around immediately. Instinctively she stepped away in defense, completely shocked by the sudden appearance.

After hours of toiling away over a heated fire with a hammer in her hands, she had finally reshaped and repaired the prince's armor. It proved to be more difficult than she had originally anticipated, but she got the job done. After he left her home that morning, she had begun her working. It was only now that she was done that she had a chance to at last visit her father's grave.

She was ready to take a swing at the person who pulled her arm back, but as soon as she found herself face to face with royalty, her hands lowered. She quickly bowed her head, "Your majesty,"

He was looking at her more intensely now. He had to admit that she wasn't strikingly beautiful, he knew of many fair maidens that surpassed her with their long flowing hair and elaborate dresses. But there was definitely something very memorable and attractive about her, though he couldn't pinpoint exactly what.

"I'm sorry about before, I didn't know that _you_ were the one who was calling for me," he apologized, beaming the most charming smile he could muster.

She raised a knowing eyebrow, "I'm sure." Even though the man had only stayed in Ealdor for one night, he manifested the thoughts of every young woman in the village. It amazed her how easily so many girls could fall so head over heels for someone they barely knew.

When she raised her gaze to meet his, he shot her the most charming smile he could conjure up. "The armor, your father, he did an excellent job,"

A feeling of pride washed over her, the compliment was really meant for her. She was glad to hear that her work was satisfactory. His smile spread to her face, "Thank you, I'll be sure to tell him,"

He just continued to stare at her without a word. This girl, she looked much different when she had a genuine smile on her lips. Her cheerful disposition contrasted greatly with the tense one she displayed before. His eyes examined her appearance one more time, drinking every one of her features. It might have been because he was feeling a bit drowsy after a day of hard training, but her draw on him was growing stronger.

He leaned over, slowly closing the space in between them. "You know you didn't need to bring my armor over," his lips were dangerously near her earlobe. She could feel his breath tickling her neck. "I was planning on coming over later to get it," he whispered in a husky tone, "and then perhaps spend some time with you,"

"I was just," she let out a breath she didn't know she was holding, "trying to get it back to you, in case you needed it,"

A burning chill ran down her spine. This was no regular man. They held eye contact for a moment, neither of them looking away. For a split instant, she almost gave into temptation; only now did she understand why the crown prince was so popular. His irresistible allure overpowered all of her rational thought.

"I'm sorry, Sire, but I must be on my way," she curtsied hurriedly and began to walk away.

And just as she thought she had escaped from his presence, she felt him walking next to her.

"Where is it that you're heading at this time of day?" she tried to walk faster, but with his longer legs, it was easy for him to keep up.

She paled. She had no answer.

How could she possibly explain that she was off to pay her respects to her dead parents? Especially after she had so boldly deceived him?

She thought on the spot, wracking her mind for a plausible excuse, "I'm on my way to the well for water," she felt his stare burning into the side of her head.

She would have patted herself on the back for her fast thinking, had he given the chance to think that he even remotely believed her.

His eyebrows knitted together, "With flowers," he eyed the bouquet in her hand, "and no bucket?"

Gwen bit her bottom lip nervously. "Yes," she managed, and resumed walking, hoping that she would be able to shake the stubborn prince off.

But no such luck. "Allow me to accompany you," Arthur knew that she was hiding something; she wasn't too skilled in concealing a fib. But then again, he didn't really care. "The sun's about to go down, a girl like you shouldn't be out alone—"

Gwen turned abruptly, and he nearly collided with her. She put a hand up as a barrier between her and his chest. "No disrespect Sire, but your company is not necessary,"

She desperately ached to visit her father, she had been trying to go since that morning. The prince had stopped her before, and she was going to make sure that he wasn't going to keep her again.

"You're not serious,"

She shot him a look of scorn. He returned it with his own of disbelief .

He didn't quite understand, was she resisting his charm, was she actually rejecting his interest in her?

He stood there stunned, not quite sure if he had heard correctly. He hadn't even begun drinking that evening, there was no way he was drunk.

"_Sire!"_ a far away voice hollered.

Arthur recognized it immediately, it belonged one of his senior knights. Repeated calls for the prince continued as he inwardly cursed. He knew why they were looking for him. If only he had gotten farther away, then maybe he would have been able to get away without attending the forsaken meeting.

He was about to readdress the current situation with the girl standing next to him, but she was already one step ahead of him. Before he could do anything to stop her, she had made a deep curtsy, and scurried ahead of him on the path. He spotted a couple of knights on the hill behind him, they ran to retrieve him.

As he moved to run after her, another round of calls prevented him. His eyes fell to the dirt path where he feet had been. There lied a discarded, thin strip of cloth, bright red, rich in color, light in texture. He knelt to pick it up, holding it in between his fingers.

Eventually his men caught up to him, each of them was hunched over, their hands on their knees, trying to catch their breaths. Through their pants, one of them asked breathlessly, "Where were you?"

Arthur continued to look on at the empty path that the girl had run off in. He reluctantly tore his eyes away and stood up, and faced his comrade, "Nothing," her murmured, "Just heading to the well for some water," He was still distracted by thoughts of her reaction, a little bit dazed.

"Sire?"

"What is it?"

"The well" a pause, "it's located on the opposite end of the village,"

He looked blankly at the man.

A moment of complete silence.

Then he tilted his head back in amusement.

His grin went ear to ear.

Was it even possible for someone to be such a terrible liar?

This girl was proving herself to exceed his expectations; she was far more interesting than anything else in the village.

Maybe this trip to the countryside wouldn't be as boring as he thought.

**End Chapter 4**

A/N: There's definitely a mutual attraction between Arthur and Gwen. Arthur initially believes that it's the same type of attraction that draws him into other girls, but early he acknowledges that its different to some extent. And as for Gwen, its just sexual tension. This chapter is different from last in the way that he was confused and unsure before, but now intrigued and interested; she's different from his archetypal woman.

So again, thank you for reading! I hope you liked it, reviews _please_!


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Wrote this while listening to 'Hero' by Enrique Iglesias. Definitely set the mood for this chapter, try listening to it while you read?

**Chapter 5**

_When two people are destined to be together, nothing else matters. The future is beyond their control, and all they can do is wait, wait until their questions are answered. _

He waited for her that night.

He had better things to do, numerous brawls to interrupt, overflowing drinks to down, countless women to bed. But every time he sat down to enjoy himself, the red strip of cloth burning a hole in his pocket, reminding him of the girl who had rejected him earlier.

He honestly didn't know what to make of her. For his entire life, women had doted on and adored him. His nursemaids, the women servants, the lady courtiers, no one could resist him. No one had ever displayed such disdain for him.

So here he was, in uncharacteristically simple fashion, sitting outside of her home.

He had managed to acquire information on the girl, unintentionally of course. After the long drawn out meeting with the village elders, Arthur snuck away and joined his companions around a fire in the heart of Ealdor. Though not as large scale a celebration as the one the previous night, there were still women and alcohol draped on every man's arm. A knight commented on the prince's armor, and Arthur responded with a statement of how skilled the local blacksmith was.

The girls around them suddenly threw their arms up and caused a commotion. Their shrill voices ranted about how impossible it was, as the town's blacksmith had been murdered by the beast that they had been sent to kill. The conversation transitioned into one of the blacksmith's daughter, Guinevere.

The poor girl was now completely orphaned, her mother passing away from a strange illness during early childhood, and her brother abandoning their family for excitement. She was quiet, not the most sociable girl. She had been very close to her father, and was obviously devastated by his death. There was concern around Ealdor as to how she would be able to support herself, without a husband or family.

After hearing the several bits of stories about her, Arthur couldn't stay still.

Maybe it was because he felt guilty that his father hadn't issued military aid earlier to prevent the tragedy.

Maybe it was because he sympathized with her; his own mother dying only hours after giving birth to the prince.

Or perhaps it was just because he was curious. The words she spoke to him were questionable, but the work she had done on his armor was definite. Knowledge of her background didn't explain why she refused him. He wanted answers.

When he arrived at her hut, it was completely abandoned. It seemed like her neighbors had all fallen asleep, further prompting him to ask the question as to why she wasn't at home herself. He sat on the ground, his back to the cold stone walls of her house. He wasn't the type to wait for something without complaint, but he kept his mouth shut, his eyes alert for her silhouette.

Gwen had let the time pass her by.

She was exhausted, body and soul. So when she arrived in front of her parents' resting places, she just sat there, unsure of what to do. Like she had done every day after her father was buried, she swept the stray leaves and twigs away, making sure that it was all tidy. She threw the dried flowers with the new bouquet, placing it directly in between the gravestones. But after she finished, and kneeled; she didn't want to leave.

"You wouldn't believe who the king has sent to protect the village from the beast," she would smile bitterly, it was all she could do, "Camelot's finest led by the crown prince himself rode in yesterday,"

"The prince, Arthur Pendragon, lives up to his name as a prat. Honestly one wouldn't think that he had ever been told 'no' a day in his life,"

"I repaired his armor. I made so many mistakes when I was fixing it that I was scared that I had ruined it completely. Luckily he found my work to be up to his royal standard,"

She would laugh sadly, glad that she had something to tell her parents. But then the inevitable frown would come, the pressure building in her chest.

"I hope that you are both doing well," she would stare at the silent gravestones, as if waiting for a response.

"Elyan has yet to return, I've tried to get word to him but I've received no response," Her brother never contacted her, she was sure that he didn't want to.

"I miss you dearly," her voice would crack.

_"I feel so alone,"_

She was on the verge of tears during the entire conversation, but she refused to let them flow. She had allowed herself to mourn the death, but forbid herself from crying. She didn't think she would be able to stop herself if she did.

So she swallowed her pain and forced herself to stand up. It was clear that she had stayed out too long, it was pitch black. Had it been someone unfamiliar with the surroundings, they would have found themselves lost in the maze of the forest. But luckily, with some sanity left in her head, Gwen was able to feel her way out of the wood and pack onto the dirt path to Ealdor.

She had been feeling faint earlier that day, but it had progressed to the point where she found it difficult to stand. She pushed herself to make it to her home, hoping that she would be able to get there safely. She desperately longed to lay on her bed, clear her head, get some rest.

His head snapped up as he heard her light, but heavy and dragging footsteps. Instinctively, he stood up, at last able to make out shadow. His first thought was to throw a fit about how long she had taken to get back. He was not accustomed to be kept waiting, even if she hadn't anticipated his appearance. But as distance between them became shorter, he found himself speechless.

He swore she looked healthy this morning, well enough to stand her ground against him. But the girl in front of him, she didn't resemble the strong spirited person he had met. She looked frail, tired, sickly, ill even. His thoughts or irritations disintegrated as his breath was taken away.

She got closer, her body swaying dangerously with every step.

When she saw him, she immediately thought she was imagining things. She was so drained of energy that she almost didn't care even if the man in front of her was really there.

She narrowed her eyes, her voice dry, its volume barely above a whisper, "What are you—"

Fighting and training had honed his body to react almost instantly. So when she nearly collapsed on the cold hard ground, a few strides were all it took to catch her.

"Whoa," his arms went to support her back, her feet barely touching the earth below.

She looked up at him, her eyes puzzled by what she saw. She mouthed a 'Sire' and a hand clutched the side of her head. Her futile efforts to stand were for naught and her legs gave out.

He felt strangely shy around her. He had been with other women, too many to name, and with all of them, he had made more contact than simple embracing. But never before had he felt so intimate with someone. In that moment, he knew she was more exposed than any other girl he had met.

They remained unmoving, frozen in that same position barely a yard away from her front door.

As soon as awareness dawned on her, she moved to get away from his arms. But he stopped her, knowing well that she would fall down as a result to her clear instability. She didn't accept his help, this time pushing his touch away. Equally as stubborn, the prince wouldn't let go.

She continued to half heartedly struggle out of his hold, he said it.

"Guinevere," his tone stern but gentle, "Stop,"

She complied without complaint.

He knew her name.

Feeling the girl in his arms unwind, Arthur found himself beginning to relax as well.

Forethought was never his strong suit, he tended to be reckless, hardly thinking of potential consequences until they reared their head. And as he stared down at the broken girl, something came over him.

In the spur of the moment, he dipped his head down slightly, bending over just so his lips would meet hers.

As soon as he made contact with her, he could tell.

He didn't kiss her just because he wanted to; there was a part of him that needed to.

This numbing sensation he felt, it was no ordinary response, it was like nothing he had experienced before.

He pulled away softly. She lifted her head up as he did, almost like she didn't want him to stop.

But as soon as he could look at her again, he felt her body go limp. She had fainted, no longer conscious.

Arthur was left there, in the dead of the night, a girl he barely knew anything lying cold in his hands, standing outside of a hut in the middle of the countryside. The circumstances were beyond foreign, yet he couldn't help but feel at home.

He shifted his arms so that one was behind her back, the other under her knees. He carried her so that she her body was parallel to the floor.

Hesitating at first what to do, but then deciding he couldn't just leave her outside of her home, walked forward and stepped into her house. Knowing well that no one would be inside, he lied her down on the small bed in the corner.

He placed her down carefully, maneuvering her weight so that he could place the thin, worn out blankets over her shoulders.

He was taken aback by how tender he was with her, but at the same time couldn't help doing so.

He dragged the stool that had been sitting in the middle of the one room home over to the side of the bed.

Before he could stop it, his hand went to stroke her head, gently tucking a stray curl behind her ear. She was really out of it, she didn't stir in the least.

He didn't understand his actions towards her, or why his heart felt like it was being ripped out.

Arthur had come for answers, but instead was left with an endless list of more.

He supposed he would just have to wait until she woke up to give him more insight. And if that meant staying in a dingy old hut for a night, sitting at the bedside and holding the hand of a pretty girl, then he was willing to sacrifice his thirst for knowledge until morning.

He didn't know what to expect.

But Fate sure did.

**End Chapter 5**

A/N: Okay, so there is little plot in this chapter, but hey, they have their first kiss! The deeper connection has come between them, though they aren't really too keen on the logistics of it. Arthur can't help but come to her, and when he sees her in the moment, he can't resist his feelings. He doesn't understand why he acts the way he does, or why he's so attracted to Gwen. Gwen's feelings for Arthur haven't really developed yet, but I can tell you that she's going to open up to him soon enough. For me, a difficult chapter to write.

I hope you enjoyed it, thank you for reading! Be sure to give me a review, I really hope to get better at writing these fics, and your input really helps. I also update faster the more reviews I get!


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

Everything was going as planned.

The beast had a habit of reappearing every dozen days, and on today was the third night of their stay, and also the twelfth day since the last attack.

From various witness accounts, the beast was one with giant claws, massive tusks, and enormous strength. Arthur and his knights thought little of it, this creature may be strong, but it was nothing that the strongest young knights of Camelot couldn't take care of.

No one was really worried about the outcomes of the battle, everyone confident that it would be an easy win.

But what was making people anxious was the sudden disappearance of the prince. He was infamous for being irresponsible hedonist, but he completely vanished from sight that night. Claims of the him wandering in the dark around the village were made, but when the soldiers were sent out to look for their leader, they came back empty handed. The knights were at their wits end trying to locate him. Had the young Pendragon actually bailed on their mission in Ealdor and the knights returned back to Camelot alone, the King would have their heads mounted on sticks.

There was however speculation that Arthur had been welcomed into the house of a female resident, but no one ever would have thought he would be sleeping in the home of the most virtuous girl the world had known.

So no one knocked on her door that morning. Villagers had assured the city dwellers that Gwen would never be as irresponsible as to sleep with the prince, and that she was amidst mourning and to be respected. There would be no rational reason for them to raid her did they know that their approach couldn't have been more off course. Had they bothered to check, they would have saved their minds from going mad with worry.

Arthur woke up first, his eyes opening slowly in the beginning, but then focused on the sight in front of him.

He immediately tried to pull away, as his elbows had been resting on his knees, and his head inches away from hers. Fragments of his memory from last night began to piece together. The confusion, the frustration, the adrenaline, the kiss. Feeling warmth on his hand, he attempted to retract his arm, only to find that something was preventing him.

An unconscious smile formed on his features. He distinctly remembered that he was the one had grabbed and cradled her hand before he fell asleep, but looking at it now, her small hand was wrapped around his.

Her sleeping face was that of bliss, of a true angel. He could tell that she was relaxed, sleeping peacefully. It made his own heart relax as he saw she had recovered from her unstable state that jarred him the night before. He continued to admire her sleeping form, until he saw her shift around.

Gwen swore that she experienced the best night's sleep she had in weeks. It was one thing to fall asleep for a couple hours, it was another to sleep them consecutively. She had been suffering from insomnia lately, the stress of her current situation causing her to constantly wake up multiple times in her sleep. But she didn't as much as stir in her sleep, it was a relaxing, continuous slumber.

Her body felt refreshed enough to wake up naturally. With her eyes still closed, she sat up, stretching her arms up in the air, and then bring one hand to cover her yawn. A noise interrupted her, she opened her eyes to see her front door slam shut.

She realized that she was still dressed, and not in her nightgown. There was a stool next to her bed, it wasn't where she had left it.

What happened last night?

Gwen searched her mind an answer. Everything after her visit to her parents' grave was a blur.

She was feeling lightheaded, it was dark.

She stumbled her way into the village.

She was walking up the path to her hut.

She saw him standing in front of her house.

Her eyes widened at the memories. They were beginning to fit together like a puzzle.

She almost fell over from exhaustion, he stepped forward to catch her.

He wouldn't let her stand up, he held her up in his arms.

Her heart began to beat rapidly, unsure if she wanted to dig deeper. But she continued.

He said her name, he gazed into her eyes.

And she gazed back.

_Then, there was the kiss._

Gwen's hand flew to her mouth. "No," she whispered, her eyes wide. She shook her head, it wasn't possible. Her fingers brushed her lips, almost looking for evidence.

Her attention returned to the chair next to her, it wasn't where she had last left it. She held up her hand and examined it as if it was the most fascinating thing she had ever seen; she swore she could still feel his hand in hers.

Arthur Pendragon stayed the night by her bedside, and he slept on a stool.

**-p-**

At the first sign of her waking up, he ran out of her house like the wind.

He intended to stay with her when she woke up, but was suddenly hit by cold feet. What if she asked him what had happened? What if she asked why he stayed? What if she asked why he had kissed her?

The questions were natural products of what had transpired, yet he had no logical explanation to give. How was he supposed to tell her if he had no idea himself?

So he gathered himself as quickly as he could and scrambled out the door before she regained consciousness.

He wanted to stay, he didn't want to leave her presence. He wanted to be there to comfort her, in case she felt upset again. He couldn't describe it, but the need to protect her, from anything was growing.

He was going to see her again, speak to her soon, he just needed to straighten things out in his own head beforehand.

The prince walked into the training grounds as if nothing had happened. Upon sight of their leader, the knights nearly collapsed with relief. They slapped him on the back, congratulating him on the night he never had. If he was puzzled by his own actions, he knew his friends would hardly understand.

He reached for his sword, he saw a flash of red. He didn't even remember taking it out, he must have been carrying it this entire time. The memory of her alone sparked another smile on his face.

Just then, a familiar face passed by, walking towards him. Smiling at his cleverness, Arthur grabbed and pulled him aside and threw a forceful arm around his shoulder.

"Say, you remember where the blacksmith lives, don't you?"

**-p-**

Gwen looked back in the mirror, finding the girl staring back at her completely different than she had any other day of her life.

Prominent dark circles fell beneath her swollen eyes, her face considerably pale, her frame evidently thinner. She knew she hadn't been taking the upmost care for herself recently, but this was the first time that she had noticed its effects.

She sighed as she smoothed the skirt of her dress down, pressing out any folds or kinks. She reached the back of her head to retie her hair. With one hand holding the end of the braid, her other went to the small dresser next to her for the band. Strange, she swore she had been wearing her hair up the day before. She must have lost it.

About an hour after she had woken up, she was visited by one of the local boys from the village. Initially perplexed by his visit, she was given a message. The prince had sent the boy to tell her to meet him before sundown.

She couldn't help but smile at his message. He never told the boy where they should see each other, saying to meet him somewhere along the way to the well. He might have been a prat, but a cunning one nonetheless.

Morning had turned into afternoon, and eventually afternoon into evening.

She walked to the place that she had abandoned him the day earlier, on the path to the forest.

When she arrived, there was no one there.

She didn't know why, but she thought that he would have been the one to arrive early. He was the one who had invited her out.

After a couple of minutes, she decided to refuge from the sun's fleeting rays underneath the shade of a tree.

After a bit longer, she leaned on the trunk of the tree to take some of the weight off of her sore feet.

And then after another while, she began to think that she had mistaken the meaning behind his message, and that he had wanted to meet her at the actual well.

But just as she was about to leave to see if he was on the other side of the village, he found her.

Arthur had been running extremely late.

Not because he lost track of time or forgot, but because he had trouble slipping away.

His comrades were asking more detailed questions about his whereabouts the previous nights. Their assumptions that he had bedded another woman was half true, yet he didn't want to admit it to them. Granted they would no admonish his escapades with the country girl, but the fact that they would think of her as just another conquest tore him apart.

He knew she was different, he could feel it.

He didn't like the idea of other people viewing her differently.

He managed to fight himself out of the crowd of knights who were all rather skilled with a sword. They playfully challenged him and begged to spar. Had it been any other day, he would have accepted without a second thought of the other engagements he had going on.

Still in his armor, with sweat dripping down his forehead, he sprinted.

He sprinted so fast that no one had seen where he was heading.

He became worried that she had left because he failed to show up on time.

He looked out onto the dirt road, thinking that she had disappeared. But when he turned the corner towards her home, he spotted her easily. She stood only paces away, her eyes closed.

Relieved that she had waited, the mischievous side of the prince began to crept skillfully behind the tree, careful not to make any obvious noises. His hands moved slowly, and then he grabbed her shoulders.

She nearly screamed bloody murderer if it hadn't been for his fast reflexes.

In an instant, he swooped in front of her, one hand over her mouth, the other with a finger to hush her.

As soon as she was aware that it was Arthur, she relaxed.

He broke out in unbridled laughter, he found her surprise absolutely adorable.

She began to pout at him, not afraid of hiding her frustration. It might have been humorous to him, but she was genuinely terrified. Then, before she could stop it, a playful fist came out and she struck him on the chest.

Their trains of thoughts stopped almost immediately, and she looked up with frozen eyes. Then he did something she wasn't expecting.

"I'm sorry," the smile still prevalent but now apologetic, "I couldn't help myself,"

One look at the tall, broad shouldered, well built man, and one would have never thought that he was really a small child at heart. "I just wanted to thank you,"

Her mouth fell open, an apology, and then an expression of gratitude. Even though she had lied to him, here he was thanking her.

He continued, "You did an amazing job with my armor, truly the highest quality of workmanship"

"No," she stepped backward so that her back was lying on the bark of the tree behind her, "I should be the one thanking you. What you did yesterday, I really appreciate it," she saw him tense, and quickly added, "taking me back inside, thank you for not leaving me outside," she lowered her head, then pausing a bit before remembering, "my Lord,"

An atypically shy hand went to the back of his burning neck.

Thoughts of the events of the previous nights ran through each of their heads, neither of them willing to broach the topic of what really happened.

A gust of wind blew between them, and things started to play out in slow motion. Arthur watched as stray locks flew in front of her face.

As she felt him staring at her, she hastily combed the unruly curls in hopes of taming them.

"I lost my tie," she stuttered, "My hair's been a mess because of it,"

She knew she should have been more respectful in the presence of royalty. She understood that she shouldn't have, but she beginning to feel so comfortable around the prince that she barely felt out of place when she forgot to call him by title.

As she spoke, Arthur remembered the excuse he had to call her there.

"Here," he pulled out the carefully handled piece of cloth from his pocket, "You dropped it yesterday," he smirked, "on your way to the well,"

The heat in her cheeks flushed more than she cared for. He really just loved to patronize her deceit. But she couldn't help but enjoy it.

She reached down to take it from him. As her hand made contact with his, she didn't want to move.

A moment of true euphoria, both of them entranced by the other.

Instead of letting her take the cloth away, his hand clamped down around hers, not able to control his actions any longer.

She felt short of breath as their faces inched closer and closer. But as everything seemed so right and perfect, reality beckoned.

A shrill cacophony of screams filled the air. Explosions and crashes boomed, they could feel the vibrations through their feet.

He looked down at her, she was stood frozen, absolutely horrified. She shakily raised her eyes to his.

"The beast," she was trembling now, "it's back,"

Without a second thought, he let her go, her hand dropping to her side.

He unsheathed his sword, and began walking in the direction of the noises.

He turned around to face her one last time before he left.

His eyes portrayed highest authority, "Stay,"

This time it was her turn to watch him disappear beyond her line of sight, unable to go after him.

Her knees buckled as she leaned back on the tree for support.

The knights were supposed to be able to handle anything, they were the strongest warriors in the entire kingdom.

So why was she so sure that something terrible was about to unfold?

** End Chapter 6**

A/N: Though not a beautiful chapter, definitely some things going on here. Both of them are really too afraid to face what happened last night, but neither of them is willing to simply forget it. They feel the connection between them, an 'undeniable pull' (Chair fans?) is something they can't help. Oh, I really want to start getting into Camelot and introduce the other characters into this plot, but sadly it will have to wait until the Arwen romance is underway. Thank you for reading, please review if you want me to continue writing!**  
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	7. Chapter 7

A/N: Before reading, beware that a lot of this chapter introduces elements that will throw you off unless you read a little more carefully. Enjoy! Reviews please!

**Chapter 7**

Large oak doors swung open as a man forced his way in without introduction.

_"My King"_ the echo of his voice resounding in the largely empty place. _  
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A man clad in armor, his helmet recently removed, strode into the king's throne room and kneels with one knee. His face full of worry gave one message, a message that Uther Pendragon never wanted to receive.

Guards immediately moved to take this soldier away, such insolence and disrespect was to never be tolerated, even from the highest ranking of knights. But as he was being dragged away, the king raised his hand.

He sits in his chair, underneath the framework of high-ceilinged windows and beautiful statues carved over his head. "Leave him,"

He stood up slowly, he waved his hand so that he could be left alone with the man kneeling in front of him.

"What is it, Sir Leon?"He slowly descended the shallow stairs and approached the knight.

"My Lord, we have received word of the platoon that was sent to the western borders," the younger man, though far stronger, far healthier, full of zeal, was undeniably intimidated. He didn't think to make eye contact.

"What of it?"

"The beast has been slain, it no longer poses a threat to the countryside"

Uther could tell there was something more. And he dared to ask.

"What's happened to my son?" he found it difficult to swallow.

The silence felt like it lasted an eternity. The once proud king waited on edge, anticipating his response.

"Arthur Pendragon has been seriously injured in battle,"

Time seemed to stop in place.

It may have been one father who heard news of his son's wellbeing. The boy was trouble from the moment he was born into the world, but never gave Uther true reason to fear for his son's life.

"He's alive," it was a statement to help process his thoughts. He breathed a sigh of minor relief, but not before redrawing his staid facade.

"Sire?"

The king stopped, looking down for a moment. He signaled the man to stand up and turned around.

"What is your decision?"

The older man walked back up the stairs he had just gone down, finding his throne and sitting down, gripping the sides until his knuckles turned white.

"Leave it,"

Leon's eyes bulged to the point of disbelief, "Forgive me my King, but maybe you should recons—"

"My decision is final!" he boomed, the intensity in his voice enough to startle the younger man into muteness. "It's an embarrassment to this kingdom, and a disgrace to the Pendragon legacy if I send troops in to save my son," his voice began to lower, "if he is indeed the man he is meant to be, he will prove himself and come home,"

He chanced to speak up, unable to let it sit, "Sire, he's been mortally wounded, I implore you to spare troops to escort him back. The countryside is a dangerous place for anyone, a prince fixes a considerable bounty, much less someone on the brink of—"

"I will hear nothing more of this," his composure is returned, almost inhumanly so. His voice is steady, and so are his words. "He will disgrace me no more,"

Understanding it would be fighting a losing battle, the younger man hangs his head low. He bows his head, and then his body, backing away until he exits through the same doors he entered through.

He may have sworn loyalty to the king, but his bond with the prince was far stronger. He was in no position to oppose the potentate of Albion. He knew who he had to go to.

As he made himself down the castle corridor, he spotted the man just right for the job. The lanky young man leaned against one of the hallway walls, waiting.

It seemed that he knew what was coming without Leon having to explain it.

"He's not sending any men?" it sounded like a question, but both knew the answer already.

Leon shook his head. "What are you going to do?"

A smile formed on his mouth, deep blue eyes twinkled. His crossed arms unfolded, as he stood up straight. His clothing marked the sign of a nobleman, but his disposition suggested that he was a young boy at heart.

"I guess it's a matter of time before I go to save his backside again,"

Leon's eyes narrowed at his obvious gall, but decided to ignore it. "You know the territory?" he was serious. Most people of the city were unfamiliar with the world outside of the castle walls. The only people that were reliable enough to trust to get anything done was a knight, and the boy in front of him was no soldier.

"Leon," his arms open up as to question with surprise, "I think I know my way around the place I grew up in," the grin on his smile never fading.

The knight's mouth opened to respond, but was too taken aback by the new information to say anything in time.

"I'll leave straight away, don't worry," he walked forward and passed by the taller man and made his way to the exit on the other end.

Why the prince trusted that boy with his life, Leon would never know. The friendship between the strange boy and the prince was always one shrouded with mystery to the members of court. Nonetheless, Leon knew the only person willing to risk his head for the sake of the prince against the king was him.

Leon heard the door shut, telling him that the boy had left. He would be well on his way in no time. He took a deep breath, hoping that it would bring him much needed ease to his anxiety.

_"Good luck, Merlin,"_

**-p-**

By the time Arthur was able to regain consciousness, all he could feel was the splitting pain to his side.

His first instinct was to cry out in agony, the moment he was able to feel, he felt. He tried to open his eyes to see what had happened, but his eyelids felt like they had been shut for years.

His brow furrowed in frustration, he yelled out again.

The last thing he remembered was fighting the beast.

The bastard had taken the lives of his comrades; he was surrounded by countless fallen friends. He didn't understand, the creature was not to appear until late at night. The attack caught them completely off guard.

In a desperate attempt to salvage the village and the people in it, Arthur lured the monster into the forest. Provoking it with his sword, not able to strike a mortal blow without sacrificing the life of another nearby.

By the time he was able to strike it down, he had been all but torn in half. The beast had bitten him, clawed him apart. So he lied there, alone in the dark wood, believing that he was going to die. And just as he passed out, a flash of red and dark blue sparked before it all went black.

From what he could tell, he was lying down on a bed, probably somewhere that had a fire, he felt warm.

No, it wasn't a fire, he would've been able to see the flicker or orange light through his eyelids if it was true.

Then, a cool cloth pressed against his forehead.

Taught to defend himself in whatever situation, to beware of everything in all situations, his arms shot up and grabbed whatever was touching him.

And then he realized.

His eyes shot open, and he saw her.

She was the one who found him in the forest. She was the one who brought him back to wherever he was.

He tried to sit up, but the sharp pain in his lower torso preventing him from doing so successfully. He choked on his curses, he almost clutched the wound before her hands stopped him. He looked at her face, she was scared. She appeared not to have slept in days, completely flustered.

His voice was dry, but he felt happy. "Guinevere,"

"Shhh, you're alright," she stroked his forehead with the wet cloth, her other hand easing his chest so that he was flat on the bed again.

He almost felt better, until he saw tears run down her face.

A gentle hand reached up to brush them away, puzzled by her sadness.

Her voice cracked, she was shaking but her eyes were bright, "You're alright,"

She took hold on his hand, bringing it to her mouth, placing a gentle kiss.

She had only known this man, this prince, for a few days. But already he held so much significance in such short time. She couldn't handle losing yet another person in her life, he had provided her with the support to bring her back from her sadness.

She couldn't begin to understand just how important he was going to be to her.

For now, she was simply thankful that he was alive.

**End Chapter 7**

A/N: Ah! Merlin makes his appearance. I actually got a PM asking about Merlin, and it was so funny because I was just writing this when I finally opened it. If you caught the little tidbit about Merlin's clothing, you will realize that he is not a servant, but still from Ealdor? Hmmm, you'll have to wait to find out more! The tricky thing with Arthur and Gwen is that this near death experience will bring them closer together.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

He was staring. He knew he was, but he had no intention of stopping.

He didn't bother to hide his budding obsession.

He was subjected to strict bed rest, the wound to his side so serious it was difficult to sit upright. Not that he would know it, he was in complete didn't know how it had come to this; at first he had just been grateful for her help.

But his mind had a way of complicating things in ways he still couldn't comprehend. He didn't know if she volunteered, or if she had been assigned to care for him over the past few days. She was with him at every point of time, only a call away.

His eyes couldn't get enough. She had shown him such kindness, despite the fact that she knew him for little less than a week. He had seen it before when she repaired his armor, and now he saw it when she nursed him around the clock. She possessed genuine concern for him as a person, not really a prince. She simply wanted to help.

His gaze followed her hand as another warm towel pressed against his bare chest, bandage wound around his torso. Their bodies illuminated by the dim flickering of candles around them.

And though he didn't intend on disguising his attention for her, she didn't seem to notice.

When she realized that he had been looking at her, she only felt insecure.

"Is there anything wrong?"

If he knew anything, there was very little wrong with that moment.

"The water, it's too hot?" she wondered.

A smile crept across his face. Never before had he witnessed a person that exhibited so much effort for another, and it was adorable.

"Your wound, has it become too painful?"

He didn't answer, too captivated by her appearance. Her beauty went past her sweet face, it went into her nurturing personality, her kind heart.

Her eyes filled with fear, "I'll go fetch some herbs to help," Her body began to pull away from his, but before she could get too far, his hand stretched out to catch her wrist. He firmly, but gently, placed the hand with towel over his chest again.

"I'm fine," he assured, "nothing is wrong,"

She let out a breath of relief. Princes were demanding beings, she couldn't understand begin what was going on in his head.

The sudden realization of the intimate content dawned, and she instinctively removed her hand. He released her wrist as she felt her moving away.

It was always like this, they would get a bit close, and she would be the first one to stop.

Her back was turned to him now, she set the small bucket of water on the ground. Her hands went to prepare something on the wooden table on the other side of the small house."I overheard some things when I was at the well," the clinging of plates between her fingers, "Your knights, the ones that survived, they are all doing well,"

He leaned his head on the wall behind him, closing his eyes. The resulting casualties from the beast's attack weren't limited to villagers, he had lost a good number of his loyal men.

"It seems they have been making preparations to ride out, back to Camelot,"

His eyelids snapped open, looking at her form. It was quiet, the entire community around them filled with silence. A somber mood hung over the village, the losses too great to ignore.

"Rumors of your injury have reached past the borders,"

The news didn't surprise him, he had been expecting such.

"There are people looking for you," She turned around, carrying a wooden bowl filled with an unidentifiable paste. "It's not safe for your majesty to be staying in a place like this, in a state like this," She sat herself back down on a short stool next to the bed.

"The gash to your side hasn't healed yet, but I will try to alleviate the pain so you will be able to travel back,"

Gwen wasn't one to indulge her every desire; but she was beginning to run out of ways to deny the way she was feeling around the young Pendragon. There was definite truth in the words she had heard about him before their first encounter; he was indeed a womanizing prat. But gossip had failed to mention his noble qualities.

He had risked his own life to protect the village, running and luring the monster alone into a wood he was unfamiliar with. He wanted to defend the lives of his people and his knights. No matter what reputation he had earned in the past, she couldn't help but admire his bravery and sacrifice.

She didn't want him to leave.

She took out a spoon and began to mush the mixture in the bowl, her eyes concentrating on blending. She scooped a reasonably sized helping, and raised it carefully to his looked at her, looking as if he was going to say something in purely Arthur fashion, he took a deep breath, and changed pace.

"I hope that's not for me," his chin inclined upwards, like a stubborn child that didn't want to finish his dinner.

She glanced up at him, her eyes jumping from the wooden utensil, and back to his face.

"It's your evening meal," she stated plainly and innocently.

"It looks the same as my morning meal," he paused, playfully pensive, "actually it looks the same as my midday meal too," he joked again.

"That's because it is," she felt the edges of her lips tug upwards, "It's best you stick to consistent foods while you recover,"

Seeing her heightened mood, he relaxed. For some reason, he always felt uneasy when she did. "I think I'll take my chances without it,"

She laughed cheerfully, somehow he knew how to lift her spirits in any situation.

"Well if you can pick what you want to eat, then I'm sure you could prepare your own food, feed yourself, and care for yourself"She set the bowl back down on her lap, the spoon joining it. She picked it up to place it in his hands, when he stopped her.

"I'm only kidding," blue orbs met brown ones, "I don't think I would have survived if it weren't for you,"

Her heart skipped a beat, even though she wished it hadn't. She was well aware that developing any affections for this man would only end in upheaval.

"I've grown so accustomed to your company, I'm not sure how I would be able to continue on without it,"

"I'm sure you'll manage," concentrating on the spoon again, she raised another helping up.

"What if I don't have to?"

"Of course you do," she held it in place, waiting for him to open his mouth to take a bite.

"But what if I don't?"

She tilted her head, puzzled by his words. Slowly, the spoon found itself submerged in mush again.

"But you do," she reaffirmed.

_"Come with me"_

It spilled out on its own. He wasn't sure how to say it, so he just let it eyes rounded, her mouth parting slightly. "What?" her whisper barely audible.

This time more determined, his voice stronger, "Come back with me," The hold his eyes had on hers refused to let go.

His request was tantalizing, calling her in, far too tempting to resist.

Time stopped at the moment, as the two youths stared the one another. They wondered how to react, they waited for a response. But like she had done every time before, Gwen pulled away. She stood up abruptly, pushing the bowl into his arms.

"Would you like some water?" She quickly rushed up, and hastily threw her cloak over her shoulders, bringing the hood over her curls.

"Guinevere—"

"It's a little late, but I think I could head over to another hut and ask for some," She made her way towards the exit, her hands nervously clasped together tightly.

"Guinevere,"

"I'll only be gone for a bit—"

"Guinevere," this time with more authority, his voice deeper. He rose an eyebrow as she turned around, biting her lower lip hestitantly.

"Sire," she breathed breathlessly. She didn't look him in the eye, almost trying to conceal herself.

"Come here," he gestured back to the chair beside him.

She obeyed without a word, her head down the entire time.

He took a deep breath, slouching back further, his body slightly sliding down the bed. As soon as she had been seated, he began again, "I didn't mean to be so," he searched for a way to convey his cluttered thoughts, "blunt."

She nodded, he continued, "I was just thinking, because of your situation, maybe it would be in your best interest if you returned with me to Camelot." It wasn't a complete lie, but it wasn't the complete truth either. Sure, without a father to support her, she was penniless; but his main reasons for wanting her to come back with him were completely selfish.

He craved her presence, he didn't even like to think of parting with it.

"No," she said softly.

He looked at her, almost thinking that he might of heard her wrong.

"No, I can't," she cleared her throat, "I wouldn't be able to follow you to the city, and leave everything behind,"

He narrowed his eyes, accidently unleashing the worst response possible, "Leave _what?_" He regretted it the moment he said it. He momentarily forgot how fresh the pain of being orphaned and abandoned was for her.

The look on her face literally split his heart in two.

"I didn't mean it like that, I was just—"

"No, you're perfectly right," she felt the tears stinging her eyes. She rose to her feet again, but this time he knew no matter how many times he called her name, she wouldn't turn around. "I'll return in the morning to redress your bandage," her voice cracked in between.

Before he could think of anything to say, the door slammed shut with a soft thud.

A hand ran through his blond hair in frustration.

That could have gone better, much better.

**End Chapter 9**

A/N: Really just a look into Arthur and Gwen and how they've grown while she's been taking care of him. They've definitely developed a more comfortable dynamic, but as the question comes up of what to do when it's time for Arthur to leave is causing friction. I debated whether or not I should post this, as it doesn't really meet the substance standard for a chapter. But seeing as how long it's been since I've posted for this story, I updated. I hope you liked it, review if you want more! Thanks for reading.


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